We Used to Wait
by Swansandsparrows
Summary: Nikita and Michael are putting an end to life on the run. But can they really settle down when they're being hunted by a relentless, vengeful villain with friends in high places? Lots of Mikita!  Sequel to Paradise Lost- but also a standalone story!
1. Chapter 1

**We Used to Wait**

Chapter One:** Playing House**

_A/N: This is a sequel to Paradise Lost, but it works fine as a standalone, so you can just start with this story and then read Paradise Lost if you are so inclined :) Enjoy._

Sometimes Nikita felt like this was all a dream. Waking up in Michael's embrace, the sounds of the ocean in the distance? She never imagined it. Not once. They were back in paradise, away from Division, and safe at last.

Michael bought her a house that stood, tall and beautiful, overlooking the ocean from a grassy hill, a brisk walk away from a secluded strip of beach. The first time she stepped through the threshold of the house, her eyes were alight with the beauty of the house. Wood floors, soft white couches, powder blue rugs. She looked back at Michael. He was watching her with a mixture of hope and love on his face. She just turned, tears in her eyes, and jumped into his arms.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"You haven't even seen the best part," he said, grinning. He walked over to the wall, and opened a silver box with a keypad. He typed in a numeric sequence and their living room bookshelf swung open. On the other side were rows of guns, bulletproof vests, and other tactical gear. On the ground, there was a trapdoor.

Nikita laughed. "Really, Michael?"

"Like Birkhoff always said, 'if you're rich and you don't have a revolving bookcase, you're doing it wrong'," Michael said, smirking.

He leaned against the bookshelf, watching her admire the rows of guns. His voice lowered, grew serious. "And safety is kind of important from here on out. We're going to have more to lose nine months from now."

Nikita's hand automatically ghosted over her stomach, just barely protruding from her petite body.

Out of all of the roles she has played in her life thus far – assassin, seductress, girlfriend, daughter, druggie – she was about to add another, much more intimidating one.

_Mother_.

She knew Michael's thoughts went to his lost family, to the car bomb. If these precautions helped him sleep at night, then she was all for them.

Sometimes it felt as if this new life was in danger of being swept away by the tumultuous, lethal waters the calm ocean could so quickly turn in to. Their lives had always been precarious. Could she really live a stable, normal life here with her family.

Michael saw the turmoil and the doubt in her eyes. He stepped towards her, grasping one of her hands in his, his grip firm. With the other hand, he gently caressed her face and lifted her chin up so her eyes would meet his. The gesture was intimate and tender, and Nikita melted into his embrace.

"We used to wait for good things to happen," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "We used to say, 'after we take down Division', or 'after Oversight is gone', or 'after this next Black Box mission'. We almost lost each other. I won't allow that to happen again."

"Michael," she breathed, gazing into his eyes with all of the love in the world.

That adorable half smile that she loved so dearly crossed his face, only to be replaced with a mischievous grin. "We also used to wait to paint the walls of all of our previous safe houses, despite how ghastly the colors were. So I picked up some paint." He held up a bucket of bright highlighter-yellow paint.

Nikita laughed and pushed him away, covering her eyes. "I'm blinded!" she exclaimed.

"The guy at the hardware store said it was a wake-up color. Like caffeine for the eyes," he said, watching her theatrics with laughter in his eyes.

"And you thought that was a good sign?"

"I wasn't sure. I bought some blue, too," he said, smiling.

She pried the horrifically colored paint from his fingers and hid it in the armory, guiding him out into the living room and shutting the bookcase behind them.

"I knew you still had some common sense left in you," she said.

They spent the next few hours painting – and making a mess of each other in the process, flinging paint at each other and nearly breaking out into playful fights that ended up destroying several paint rollers that happened to be unfortunate enough to be used as weapons. They were bluer than the Blue Man Group by the time they finished the room. With a sly smile, Nikita looked innocently down at her clothes, drenched in paint.

"Well, I can't be dripping paint all the way to the shower, can I?" and slowly drew the hem of her tank top up and over her head.

Michael's eyes went wide.

Needless to say, neither of them made it to the shower for a good hour after that, and Michael called upon the "shower-together-to-save-water" clause. Nikita didn't protest.

That was their first day in their new house.

And their last.

…

It was 1AM when Michael awoke to the smell of smoke. He pulled back the covers, jumping out of bed with such speed that Nikita jolted awake and sprinted to his side moments later.

"Oh my God," she whispered in terror.

Underneath their bedroom door, a steady stream of smoke was seeping into the room.

Micheal pressed a hand to the door, only to remove it quickly.

"Why didn't the fire alarms go off?" he asked, but she was already two steps ahead of him, backing away from the door, looking around wildly for means of escape.

"They found us, Michael," she said, her voice trembling, "and they're not going to stop until they've killed us."

Michael and Nikita heard the sound of dozens of footsteps clunking up the stairs with military precision. Michael ran to the window. Eight vans around the perimeter, armed and ready to shoot to kill.

And standing with his arms folded, brazenly unarmed and unflanked by bodyguards, was Ari Tasarov.

"Gogol's here," she whispered. "And there's no way out."

_A/N: Review if you want more chapters :) Hope you all are surviving during the hiatus. January 6th, come faster!_


	2. Chapter 2

**We Used to Wait**

Chapter 2:** These Aren't the Spies You're Looking For**

_**Previously:**_

"_They found us, Michael," she said, her voice trembling, "and they're not going to stop until they've killed us."_

_ Michael and Nikita heard the sound of dozens of footsteps clunking up the stairs with military precision. Michael ran to the window. Eight vans around the perimeter, armed and ready to shoot to kill._

_ And standing with his arms folded, brazenly unarmed and unflanked by bodyguards, was Ari Tasarov._

_ "Gogol's here," she whispered. "And there's no way out."_

The Gogol tactical unit approached the door to Michael and Nikita's bedroom, waiting for the signal.

"Now," Ari Tasarov said over their earpieces.

The tactical squad raised their submachine guns, and fired off rounds into the room, turning the door into Swiss Cheese.

After a moment, they slowly lowered their weapons. The smoke from the fire and the firing squad was making it hard to see. They pushed open the door, which fell off of its hinges. They filed into the room, searching for the lifeless bodies of the spies they were ordered to kill.

But Michael and Nikita were gone. Disappeared. Just like that.

"They're gone, boss," one of the men said over the radio.

_"What?"_ Ari Tasarov asked, his signature calm facade slipping. "Well you better start looking," he said, his voice evening out again. How could they have escaped?

He looked at the sealed perimeter, the dozens of tactical units.

It didn't matter. He'd find them again, and take them down. They were a threat to him and the completion of his project, and he wasn't going to stop until they were taken care of.

Because when he completed Project Heatseeker, there would be no one on this earth who could stop him.

Not even Michael and Nikita.

…

It was an underground tunnel that saved their lives. Michael, in all of his paranoid wisdom, had built a passageway leading from their closet down to the armory. They climbed down the trap door with all of the guns and ammo they could carry, and sprinted down the tunnel until they reached the very end.

Michael helped Nikita climb up a ladder and into the salty night air. They were a mile away from their house, hidden in a thicket of trees.

Michael tried to pull her into the forest, away from the house, but she resisted.

"Look what they've done to our home," she whispered. She stared at the billows of smoke, the crimson flames, the armed gunman. "They've burned our future to the ground."

"Since when did our future manifest itself in a house?" Michael asked, wrapping her up in a hug, holding her tight. His breath fluttered in her ear. "We can get through this, Nikita. All of us. I promise."

She felt his hand gently caress her stomach. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and smiled.

"To Birkhoff's place we go?" she asked.

He laughed. "I'm sure he misses having us drink his expensive wine and bringing danger to his doorstep."

Nikita grabbed Michael's hand and the two darted off deeper into the forest.

…

Division might have been dismantled, Percy and Amanda incarcerated in a secret offshore prison, but the underground structure still stood. The white halls were silent and dark, the computer hard drives wiped of all of the files. The once-bustling ops center was vacant.

_Ding_. A bell-like noise echoed throughout the abandoned compound. A few seconds later, the heavy metal elevator doors slowly slid open. The light from the elevator poured into the dark headquarters.

The clicking of heels on tile was paired with a soft slapping of a man's leather shoes.

The woman strode over to the switchboard, inserting a key and pressing a button. Division flooded with light: pure and white, reflecting off every surface.

The woman turned around, crossing her arms and surveying the room with a smile.

"What do you think, Alex?" he asked, a playful gleam in his eyes.

"I'm ready for phase one, Sean," she said, her hungry eyes raking over the building that once held her imprisoned.

"Let's get started," he said, and set a briefcase down onto the table.

_A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! _


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